


The Holly and the Mistletoe

by Hadespuppy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, But he gets what's coming, Christmas Party, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Holiday fluff with a side of smut, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, and some not so implied, even if they don't know it yet, kissing under the mistletoe, tropey as all fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 04:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17196884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadespuppy/pseuds/Hadespuppy
Summary: Bucky has a Christmas party to go to, and he may have told everyone he works with that he's dating Steve. Steve hates dressing up, hates parties, and hates Bucky's boss. What could possibly go wrong?(Let's face it, we all know exactly where this is going, just sit back and enjoy the ride :p)





	1. Holly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TyrantTirade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyrantTirade/gifts).



> For the lovely TyrantTirade! Happy (slightly after) Christmas! I hope it's what you wanted, it's the second fic I started, after the first one got way out of hand and there was no way I was going to get it done in time.  
> I saved all the real smut for the second chapter, so the first can be read as it's own, delightfully fluffy story for anyone who doesn't like such things. Unbeta'd, because that would require that I get things done a reasonable amount of time before the deadline, if you notice anything glaring or not, let me know and if I agree, I'll fix it.

Steve surveyed the gathered takeout containers littering the table in front of him and sighed with contentment. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he savoured the moment.

“Ok, I’ve eaten your food. What do you want?” He cracked an eyelid just enough to see Bucky trying and failing to look innocent.

“Why would I want something? Can’t someone just get their best guy dinner once in a while?”

Steve gave Bucky a look that said exactly how much he wasn’t buying the act. “Two things: first, you got every single one of my favourites, even the little Russian cakes that I know you had to go all the way to Queens for. Second, I think Sam’s right. You saying things like that’s why everyone thinks we’re together and neither of us can get a date.”

Bucky reached over to shove at Steve’s shoulder. “You sayin’ I’m not good enough for you, Rogers?”

Steve smiled at the familiar banter.” Aw, you know I’d be lucky to have a guy as good as you. You’d be first on my list if it weren’t for the snoring, the complete inability to cook, the overly long showers you take to pamper your glorious mane, your refusal to acknowledge JC Lyendecker as one of the great artists of the modern age—“ He paused as he ticked items off on his fingers.

“You’re a punk, you know that?” Bucky said, shaking his head. “And after I brought you dinner. Would you even have remembered to eat if I hadn’t come over?”

“Yes”

Bucky gave Steve a look.

“Maybe.”

Bucky continued looking at him.

Steve flushed but lifted his chin defiantly. “You know, for someone looking for a favour, you are quickly wasting any goodwill you might have earned by feeding a poor starving artist.”

Bucky snorted, then looked down at his hands. “Fine, you’re right, I did want to ask you something” Steve held his tongue while Bucky worked some imaginary dirt off of his prosthetic. “The Triskelion Christmas party,” he said finally.

Steve frowned. “I thought you weren’t going to go?”

“I wasn’t,” Bucky said with a grimace, “but Pierce insisted. Apparently some big muckity-mucks are coming, and he ‘wants to be able to show off his best asset’”

Steve frowned. He did not like Bucky’s boss, but they’d argued about it enough that it wasn’t worth getting into again. “So, what does that have to do with me?”

Bucky ran a hand over the back of his neck. “He might, maybe, think we’re dating. He’s expecting you to be my plus-one.”

Steve’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t tell him we were!” Bucky protested, “I was just talking about you when you did that show last summer, and they assumed! I just didn’t contradict them.”

Steve groaned, “This? This is what I was talking about.”

“I know, I know. But it was nice. That asshole Rumlow finally backed off a bit and I liked not having to deal with him.” Steve’s face darkened. As much as he didn’t like Pierce, it was nothing to how much he hated Rumlow. They’d never even met, but that was probably a good thing, given what Bucky had told Steve about how Rumlow treated him. “I don’t even think he’s coming, but he’s been saying lately that you’re just made up. If I show up alone—” he trailed off with a frown.

“You know I hate parties,” Steve said with a sigh.

“I know, but please? I’ll owe you big time, and we can leave after an hour. It’s just a fancy night at a bar with drinks and canapes, you don’t even have to suffer through dinner—”

Steve waved him off. “Of course I will Buck. You don’t think I’d leave my best guy hanging, do you?”

Relief was all over Bucky’s face, but he shoved at Steve anyway “Punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve said fondly as he shoved him back. “When is this thing anyway?”

“Two weeks from Saturday,” Bucky replied. “Which is good because it means we have time to get you a new suit. You are not wearing that brown monstrosity you bought at the thrift store.”

Steve threw himself back into his chair and groaned. “I take it back. I’m not going. I refuse to wear anything you pick out for me.”

Bucky threw a napkin at him. “Fine, Sam can go with you. And Nat. They’ll pick you up at 3 on Thursday.”

“I have no friends,” Steve said, making a face that was definitely not a pout.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” Steve asked, slipping the velvet jacket over his shoulders. In the mirror, he could see Sam and Natalia sharing an incredulous look behind him.

“Steve ‘I want to fight the world’ Rogers is worried about being too much?” Nat said, laughter dancing in her eyes.

“You look good and you know it,” Sam added, “Bucky’s gonna flip. Won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

Steve frowned as he adjusted the sleeves of his shirt. “You do remember that we aren’t actually dating, right?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, you’re just pretending to be madly in love for one night, so his creep co-worker and his asshole boss will leave him alone. I’ve seen this movie; I know how it ends.”

“I’ll be expecting a hefty gift basket at the engagement party then, since you have all this planned” Steve deadpanned.

“The biggest.” Sam grinned. “Now stop fiddling and let the lady stick you full of pins so we can go get you some shoes.” Steve glanced at the tailor, who at a nod from Nat was already fussing with the hem of his pants, then opened his mouth to say he already had perfectly fine shoes, thank you very much, but Sam cut him off. “You do not have any shoes that are worthy of this outfit, Rogers. Just let this happen, it’ll be easier for everyone.”

A stubborn look crossed Steve’s face, but Nat’s single raised eyebrow made him think better of objecting. He felt more than a bit ridiculous, but hopefully he and Bucky could get a good laugh out of it later. He smoothed the velvet of the jacket one more time, then submitted himself to the ministrations of the tailor. His pants and shirt were black and supposedly slim fit, although he thought they still hung loose on his frame. Nat had picked out a grey double-breasted vest with a simple horseshoe collar, and Sam had added the blazer; burgundy velvet with a black satin sash lapel. It wasn’t a bad look, but it was a bit much for Steve, who was more comfortable in old jeans, paint stained t-shirts, and cozy sweater with thumb holes on the cuffs. He straightened his shoulders. It was one night, and it was for Bucky, his best friend in the whole world, he could do this.

 

* * *

 

Bucky picked Steve up in a shiny black town car. Steve had tried to object to that too, but Bucky had said what was the point of having access to a company car service if they never used it, and the cold wet slush falling over the city had made Steve’s first choice of public transit seem a miserable prospect.

Steve, always sensitive to the cold, had thrown a long coat and a thick scarf over his outfit, but Bucky took one look at his shoes and gave him a smirk. “Whose idea were those?” he asked.

Steve glowered. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The patent tips of his wingtip brogues shone dull red in the light of the streetlamp and Steve hurried to get in the back of the car so he wouldn’t have to look at them.

Bucky held the door for him like he would for a real date, then went around to the other side of the car. Steve supposed that if this was going to work, they needed to start the charade now. Who knows who the driver might talk to. He felt awkward in the quiet of the car. It was as much the prospect of spending the evening with people from Bucky’s firm as it was the fake relationship. People often assumed they were dating as it was, it shouldn’t be too hard to keep up the ruse, but Steve rarely socialised with people from outside his circle of friends and fellow artists and activists. The Manhattan corporate types he knew would be at the party were something he actively tried to avoid most of the time.

Bucky must’ve sensed Steve’s mood, because he reached over and squeezed his knee. Steve met his eyes with a tight smile, and Bucky answered it with one of his own, and then the smiles turned into giggles, which became guffaws, and they were gripping each other as they laughed, and everything was normal again.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Steve said, once he had himself more or less under control again, “I feel like this is our first date.”

Bucky smiled widely, “Well, meeting the boss is a big step, you know. You already know Ma, so we got to skip that whole ‘meeting the families’ thing.”

“Why is it always me who has to do the meeting?” Steve said with an exaggerated pout. “When do you have to get dolled up and meet my people?”

Bucky tilted his head. “Steve. You’re a punk artist from Brooklyn, and your family is dead. I suppose I could go visit the cemetery with you, but I’m not sure dressing up is really necessary there.”

Steve pulled his hand from where it had still been holding onto Bucky’s arm to grasp his chest in feigned shock. “Well I never! My own sainted mother, not good enough for you to wear nice clothes. I’ll remember that.”

Bucky shoved at his shoulder. “I’d wear black tie if you wanted me to. It would mean you’d have to find something in your closet that doesn’t have paint stains on it. And don’t say you’d wear the suit you have on, because you’ve only had it for three days, and it probably hasn’t been out of the bag in that time, and I doubt it’ll last long after tonight.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at Bucky, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they watched the city go by. Bucky’s hand was still on Steve’s thigh, and Steve imagined it felt warm even through his coat, although being metal, that was impossible.

In no time at all they arrived at the hotel where the party was being held. Bucky gave Steve one last squeeze and got out of the car. Steve took a deep breath and did the same, beating Bucky, who had been rushing around to help him out of the car. He did allow Bucky to take his arm as they walked up the steps and into the warm glow of the lobby.

They were directed towards the rooftop bar, where a small dark-haired girl asked for their coats. Steve unwound his scarf and was handing her his parka when he caught sight of Bucky for the first time. Bucky looked. He looked expensive. He had always been a snappy dresser, taking care to pick out each piece and putting them together in ways that always seemed to work, even when they probably shouldn’t. But he bought as much of his clothes used as he did new, and the suits he typically wore for work were well fitted but otherwise unremarkable. He treated them like an anonymous uniform, preferring to keep his personal sense of style away from the office.

Now though. His hair, often loose or knotted in a messy bun that Sam teased him endlessly for, was pulled back in a low pony at the nape of his neck, with a few soft waves left loose framing his face.  His suit was dark grey, almost black, with a subtle sheen like a modern version of sharkskin. The lapels were matte black, matching his slim tie. His navy shirt completed the look, giving him just enough colour to keep him from looking like the villain in some cheesy movie. Everything was perfectly tailored, showing off the breadth of his shoulders and the trimness of his waist. He looked powerful, maybe a bit dangerous. And then he smiled, almost shyly, and Steve realised he’d been staring.

“Sorry. Just, you clean up nice.” Steve stammered.

Bucky tugged on his cuffs, preening a little under the attention before gesturing to Steve. “What about you? I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you if you weren’t standing in front of me.”

Steve flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I feel ridiculous,” he said, looking at his feet. The outfit worked, and the tailor had done a great job of taking everything in, so it fit properly, but Steve felt like that just emphasised how skinny he was. Despite all the time he put in at the gym, and then when that got boring, at the dojang, he couldn’t put any bulk on his slim frame. As a result, he tended to think he looked like a little kid playing dress-up when he wore anything other than his usual jeans and t-shirts.

Bucky stepped close and put his hand on Steve’s arm just above his elbow. “You look great, I mean it,” he said softly, “C’mon, let’s get this over with, and remember, we’re madly in love.” He turned Steve and they headed into the restaurant. Steve didn’t miss the way Bucky let his hand ghost over the small of his back. It was probably part of the ruse, making them look more like a couple, but he found he didn’t mind the contact.

The maitre d led them to a table near the podium that had been set up on the edge of the small dance floor, quashing their hopes of flying under the radar and spending the evening with some of the few people Bucky didn’t mind at the firm. Pierce was already at the table, holding court with a blonde woman whose straight posture and precisely tucked hair spoke of time spent in uniform, and a middle eastern man who looked bored, as if the entire proceedings were beneath him. Pierce stood as they approached and shook Steve’s hand with a smile that would have been warm had it reached his eyes.

Steve answered with the minimum socially acceptable small talk and tried his best to be as small and unremarkable as possible. He was not good at keeping his opinions to himself, so avoiding the director’s attention was the best bet they had for getting through this unscathed. He had only met Pierce once before, when Bucky had first started with the firm, but he disliked the way the man’s blue eyes seemed to crawl over everyone as if assessing how useful they could be and in what way, and he liked the way he treated Bucky even less.

Buck hated working at Triskelion, but when he had been younger, just out of a too-brief military career and dreaming of a future he couldn’t afford, Alexander Pierce had appeared like a benevolent angel; he’d paid for Bucky’s schooling, even gotten him the best insurance money could buy and pulled strings so he could get a futuristic prosthetic arm that was the nearest to the real thing either of them had ever seen. But it had come with a price, and that was working for the firm at a reduced salary for at least five years. Bucky called it honouring his contract. Steve called in indentured servitude, especially when Pierce called Bucky in at all hours, even when he was supposed to be on vacation, or made him work 16-hour days for weeks on end to finish a project. Whatever you called it, he had 18 months to go.

Pierce was introducing Bucky to the two guests at the table, presumably the investors he had mentioned, and was waxing poetic about how they couldn’t do what they did at Triskelion without Bucky’s special set of skills. Steve, not needed for this conversation, mostly tuned them out as he looked around the room. It was classic hotel bar, with dark wood, black and white tufted leather on the walls, the banquettes, and the face of the bar, and gold accents.  Everyone was dressed well, and most of them had the same look to them; hungry, a little bit desperate around the eyes. It was easy to pick out the few spouses who didn’t fit the mold. Steve wished they were anywhere else. Out for a drink, just the two of them in their fancy suits.

A touch to his elbow brought Steve out of his musings, and he realised he had missed part of the conversation entirely. Bucky gave him a fond smile and nodded his head over towards the bar. “Come on, let’s grab a drink.” he said. Eager to get as far away from Pierce as he could, Steve led the way. At the bar, he flagged down the bartender and ordered a beer for Bucky, and one of the holiday specialty drinks for himself. Bucky didn’t even blink at being ordered for. After so many years as friends, they knew each others’ preferences as well as they did their own.

Bucky stood close behind Steve, who half turned to face him. “I think the dancing monkey act is over,” he said, “We’ll stay just until Pierce does his speech, then we can get out of here, maybe go somewhere a little more fun.”

“This party not your speed, Barnes?” a deep voice rumbled from behind them. “Or are you just eager to get your boy here on his own?”

They turned to see a broad man with tan skin and a scruff of dark stubble over his square jaw. He had the bulldoggish stance of a man who spends a little too much time in the gym, so can’t quite let his arms hang straight down, and was giving both of them a slow once over that made Steve’s skin crawl.

“From the look of you, I can see why Barnes here has been keeping you to himself. You’re positively delicious. I’m Brock by the way, Brock Rumlow.”

Steve could feel how stiff Bucky was beside him. He was nearly shaking with suppressed anger, but now was not the time, nor the place to let Rumlow have it. Steve, however, did not have quite the same compunctions.

“Steve,” he said icily, “and it’s not any business of yours what Bucky and I do together.”

Brock laughed. “I guess we know who wears the pants in this relationship. But Steve,” here he placed a leering emphasis on Steve’s name that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, “if you wanted to keep your relationship entirely private, you probably shouldn’t be standing under the mistletoe.”

Steve looked up. There was a splash of greenery with red berries and a pair of gold bells hanging above the bar. He squinted at it, then looked back at Brock. “I think that’s holly,” he said finally, hoping it would make Brock think twice and leave them alone. No such luck.

“Shy?” he asked, “Or are is there another reason you don’t want to kiss?” He seemed to have an idea, and nudged Bucky’s chest with his fingers, just this side of too rough for polite company. “He your beard Barnes?” He laughed again at his own cleverness.

“No, we just don’t feel like giving you a show.”

“Two pretty boys like you? Dressed like that? I doubt it,” He brushed a piece of imaginary lint from Bucky’s shoulder. He was shorter than Bucky by a good two inches, but he seemed to completely intimidate him. Steve had never seen Buck freeze like this. “Give us a kiss, or I might start getting ideas.”

Bucky looked at Steve, his eyes pleading. They hadn’t talked about this, but it didn’t seem like Rumlow was going to leave them alone any other way. Steve rankled at giving in to a bully, but at the same time he felt like he had been given a dare, and Steven Grant Rogers had never met a dare he wouldn’t leap into with both feet. He grasped Bucky’s lapel, pulling him closer. The fabric was silky between his fingers. Bucky’s eyes widened at the motion, but went with it almost immediately, leaning down to brush his lips against Steve’s.

It was brief, just a touch, before he straightened, or tried to. Steve had other ideas, and he had a firm grip on Bucky’s jacket, which he had no intention of letting go until he was done. He nipped at Bucky’s bottom lip, making him gasp, then took the opportunity to lick his way inside his mouth. Bucky responded eagerly, raising a hand to cup Steve’s jaw. It was almost startling, how easy it was, how well they fit together. Steve almost lost himself in it, until Bucky pushed them apart with a soft sigh.

Steve smoothed Bucky’s jacket where his hand had crumpled the fabric. His heart was beating fast, almost as fast as Steve’s own seemed to be. He looked over at Rumlow. “Satisfied?”

Rumlow leered. “Oh, I think I will be.” Steve was still trying to get his suddenly fuzzy brain to formulate an appropriately scathing response to that when the man gave them an odd little salute and wandered off to another part of the room.

Steve looked at Bucky. He looked a little shell-shocked, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was the encounter with his tormentor or the kiss that had done it. “I’m sorry,” he said, just as Bucky said “Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to get that far.” They looked at each other and laughed, dispelling some of the tension. It did not, however, lessen the warm feeling in Steve’s chest, nor the sensation that something momentous had happened.

The bartender passed them their drinks, and Bucky tossed him a tip before they turned to survey the room for a safe place to hunker down until they could leave. Bucky caught the eye of a man with a shaved head, who waved them over to the little table where he had collected a plate of canapes.

Bucky introduced him as Jasper Sitwell, and Steve was pleased to find he was clever, with a dry sense of humour, and a healthy disdain for Rumlow, whom he called “Pierce’s barely leashed attack dog” The conversation was pleasant and light, but Steve kept finding himself distracted by Bucky. He’s be listening to something his friend was saying, and then notice how close they were standing, how animated his hands were. He caught himself staring at Bucky’s face, wondering if pencil or charcoal would be better to capture the curve of his jaw, the way his dark eyelashes framed his grey eyes.

For his part, Bucky seemed mostly unaffected, although there were spots of colour in his cheeks that had never quite faded, and he may have been avoiding Steve’s gaze. Or maybe he wasn’t, and Steve was just looking for more contact than usual. He felt off kilter, like he didn’t know what was normal anymore, what was their fake relationship, and what was this new thing that was slowly settling into his limbs.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt to kiss Bucky. He had shaved for the party, and Steve wondered what it would be like to kiss him with the light scruff he usually wore. He thought of nights they had spent together, eating takeout and watching Netflix, and how it might be nice to sit a little closer, go for a real snuggle, maybe lose track of the movie entirely. It was a nice thought.

It was big. He and Bucky had been friends for nearly as long as he could remember. They were partners, two halves of a whole, but this? This was something new entirely and it shook Steve to the core. He felt flushed. He couldn’t think with Bucky so close to him, looking like that, giving him that smile.

He excused himself and headed for the men’s room to go splash some water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror. He and Bucky were best friends. Anything more was just his imagination, wasn’t it? His reflection gave no answer, and Steve sighed.  Not much longer, and they could leave, and then everything would get back to normal.

On his way back from the men’s room, Steve noticed a glass door with a sign saying “Florida Room.” There were lights on inside, so he tried the door, and was somewhat surprised to find it open. On the other side, he found a glassed-in room that had been built against two walls of the restaurant. The majority of the light came from small lanterns and twinkle lights that were set amongst what he presumed must be artificial tropical plants arranged around the room. Cozy looking furniture sat in a few clusters near the glass walls. Through the glass, he could see the lights of the city, and from here the wet, slushy snow looked like a sparkling white blanket over every surface. It was gorgeous.

Without even thinking about it, Steve pulled out his phone and started taking pictures. They didn’t do it justice; the way the city below glittered in the soft snow, nor the way the shadows and lights played on the furnishings in the mostly darkened room, but he hoped he could capture enough to use as a reference back in his studio. He told himself he’d only be a few minutes, and Bucky wouldn’t mind, if he even noticed that Steve had been absent longer than expected.

Half an hour later, Steve was laying on the ground pointing his camera up at the moon through a lattice of plastic greenery when he heard the door to the room open and Bucky’s voice call his name.

“Shit,” he said, scrambling out of the plants to stand. His knees protested the sudden movement. “I’m sorry, Buck. I went for some air, and well, got a bit distracted getting some reference photos. It’s just gorgeous in here” He could feel the flush in his cheeks from anger and embarrassment at having to be fetched like a wayward child.

“Beautiful,” Bucky replied, without looking around at anything other than Steve.

Steve shivered under his gaze. Bucky immediately rushed over and took his jacket off, draping it over Steve’s shoulders and rubbing his upper arms. It wasn’t until then that Steve realised he was freezing. The Florida room was cut off from the snow and the worst of the cold outside, but it wasn’t really heated either, and even the plush velvet of Steve’s blazer wasn’t enough to keep him warm for as long as he had been out there.

Wrapped in Bucky’s coat, standing this close with his arms wrapped around him, Steve felt warmer than just the fabric could account for. There was concern in Bucky’s face, and a fond exasperation, but also something else he had never noticed before. Steve swallowed.

“Bucky—” he began but couldn’t find the words to express everything he was feeling.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I know.” His hands had stopped their rubbing motion, and were just resting near Steve’s shoulders, big and warm, keeping him close. His tongue swept out over his lips. Steve tracked the motion with his eyes.

In the end it was inevitable, like gravity bringing them together. It was soft and warm, like coming home after a long absence. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, pulling him against his body. Steve drank him in, took everything he was given and asked for more. Bucky made a small noise as Steve buried his hand in his hair just above the ponytail and tugged to get a better angle.

Steve forgot the cold entirely. Bucky’s jacket slipped from his shoulders unnoticed. The flushed, fluttery feeling in his chest since their first kiss near the bar expanded and became real heat, travelling down his spine to pool low in his belly. Bucky stepped forward, moving them towards one of the clusters of furniture, but a low ottoman hit the back of Steve’s knees unexpectedly and they went down in a tangle of limbs.

They broke apart, laughing. Bucky looked at Steve, and the grin on his face had an edge of shock to it. “So,” he said, reaching up from where he had landed to brush a piece of Steve’s hair out of his face, “what now?”

“Now,” Steve said, and then something occurred to him and he groaned, “Now Sam is never going to let us live this down.”

“We could just not tell him?” Bucky suggested hopefully.

“I think he’s going to notice the kissing. Unless you plan on stopping that?”

Bucky pulled Steve hard, and he landed on Bucky’s chest with a squawk. “Not on your life, pal,” he said, peppering Steve’s face with kisses before burying his face in his neck. Steve melted into the embrace. Bucky held him tight for a moment, then murmured, “I don’t ever want to let you go, but we should get back to the party.”

Steve made an unhappy noise and squeezed harder. “Do we have to?”

“Just for a little longer, I promise.”

“Fine.” Steve levered himself off of Bucky and stood, brushing his pants off. Bucky did the same, then gave Steve a shove towards the door, scooping up his jacket as they went. They had almost reached the door when Steve realised he had dropped his phone somewhere during the proceedings, and headed back.

“I’ll just be a minute” he said, already scanning the floor near where they had fallen, “meet you out there.”

Bucky nodded and headed out to the hall. It took Steve a bit longer to find the phone than he had expected, but once he did, he hustled out to catch up with Bucky. To his surprise, Bucky was only a few steps down the hall, and he wasn’t alone.

Rumlow had him cornered against the wall and was running his fingers down Bucky’s chest in a possessive gesture that had Steve’s blood boiling. A moment ago, Bucky had been bright and open, with joy shining in his eyes. Now he was stiff and blank, completely shut down while Rumlow pawed at him, like some sort of switch had been flipped.

Steve didn’t think. Any consideration of propriety or repercussions were lost. He strode forward and before either man could react to his presence, grabbed Rumlow’s wrist and twisted it away from Bucky. Rumlow, startled, tried to pull away, but Steve continued his motion and used his own momentum against him, forcing him to the ground with his arm twisted up behind his back and Steve’s knee on his spine. It was all over in a moment.

Rumlow grunted in pain as Steve torqued his wrist just a bit more. “I’m going to kill you, you fucking little twink.”

Steve put more weight on his knee, digging it in just between the spine and the shoulder blade. “I don’t think so. I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to let bullies like you push me or my friends around, so I learned a few things.”

He pulled up on Rumlow’s arm and felt something pop. Rumlow bit back a cry of pain. Steve let go of his wrist, but kept the pressure on his knee. Rumlow curled around his injured arm; for the moment shocked enough at being injured not to fight back.

“You’re going to leave Bucky alone from now on,” Steve said, in a tone that brooked no argument, “And you’re going to stay here for a few minutes after we leave, and not come anywhere near us the rest of the night.”

Rumlow growled something unintelligible.

“I’d listen to him if I were you,” Bucky said. Some of the life had come back into his eyes, and Steve wanted nothing more than to leave Brock Rumlow far behind and chase all remnants of that awful blankness out of him forever. He ground his knee hard into Rumlow’s back one last time, then stood and moved to Bucky, running his hands over him in a reflexive need to make sure his friend was okay.

“I’ll have your job for this, Barnes.” Rumlow growled, pushing himself off the floor while still cradling his arm.

Bucky looked over Steve’s shoulder at him. “No you won’t. I’m Triskelion’s number one asset, remember? They need me in order to complete the next phase.”

Rumlow glowered, but before he could object, Steve added helpfully, “And who would believe you anyway? Someone who looks like you, getting beat by, what was it, a fucking little twink?”

Without consulting one another, Steve and Bucky turned their backs to Rumlow and walked away towards the party. They only got as far as around the corner before Bucky pulled Steve into a tight hug.

“That was incredible,” he said, pulling back and framing Steve’s face with his hands. They were so close their foreheads were almost touching. “You are incredible.” He gave Steve one more squeeze and pulled him by the hand in the direction of the coat check.

Steve resisted, gestured toward the party, “I thought we still had to stay?” he asked.

Bucky leveled his eyes at Steve, “Steve Rogers, I would very much like to get you alone right now, but if you would rather go back to the bougie party with my moderately evil boss, we can do that instead.”

Steve’s eyes widened, “No, we can do the other thing,” he said quickly.

They collected their coats, somehow never quite letting go of their hands until it was made absolutely necessary by the reality of sleeves. Bucky put a generous tip in the jar and they hurried to the elevator, fingers entwined once again.

As the elevator doors closed, leaving Bucky and Steve truly alone together, the momentous feeling that had been growing all night in Steve’s chest reached a peak. His skin felt electric, like he’d feel it if Bucky so much as looked at him. He thought he might explode if they touched. He couldn’t stop smiling. He looked over at Bucky, expecting to see him in a similar state, But Bucky was standing oddly still, looking at his feet. A cold dose of reality splashed over Steve. What if Bucky’d changed his mind? Maybe he didn’t want a skinny nobody like Steve? He reached over and hit the stop button.

“Before we get started, do you really want to do this?” Steve asked. His voice sounded strange, impersonal to his ears. “We can still go back to the way things were.”

Bucky looked up at him, surprised. “Why would—? Is that what you want?”

“No, I just thought, you were so quiet.”

Bucky gave him a rueful smile, and crowded him against the wall of the elevator. His hands ghosted over Steve, not quite touching.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?” he asked. He was breathing hard. “I don't want to stop, Steve. I'm trying to keep my hands off of you until we get home, else I might do something indecent.”

“Oh.”

Bucky's words went straight to Steve's groin. He could smell Bucky’s aftershave, spicy and sweet, and suddenly doing something indecent seemed like a pretty good idea. He reached up and pulled Bucky into a searing kiss. This time there was nothing homey about it. This was lips and teeth and tongues and all the adrenaline of the confrontation with Rumlow and probably  _ years _ of something building that Steve hadn't even known was there but couldn't be ignored now that he did.

Steve pulled Bucky into him, needing more contact. Bucky came eagerly, and Steve had to shoot out a hand to keep his balance. The elevator lurched into motion. Steve nosed his way into Bucky’s neck, sucking at the long tendon there.

Bucky hummed, cupping the back of Steve's head, “We need to stop. Just until we get home.”

“Don't wanna,” Steve said, nipping at Bucky’s pulse point and making him gasp.

“Have to, don't want to shock the driver.” Bucky said, but belied his words as he wormed a hand under Steve's coat, gripping his hip hard.

The elevator dinged, startling them apart. The doors opened, and they both did their best to pull their clothes into some semblance of order without looking at one another as they stepped into the lobby.

They approached the concierge, and Bucky asked him to page their car service. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Steve put a hand on his arm.

“Buck wait,” he said, and Bucky looked at him questioningly.

“We're in a hotel.”

Bucky still looked confused.

“We're in a  _ hotel. _ ”

Realisation dawned, and Bucky turned to the concierge, “Cancel that, we'll be staying.”

The concierge nodded with a smile, but neither of them saw it as they hurried to the front desk, Bucky’s arm slung over Steve’s shoulder.  


	2. Mistletoe

The elevator ride up to their room seemed interminable. They had taken opposite corners tin an unspoken agreement to prevent a repeat of their ride down. Bucky kept his hands occupied by gripping the handrail to either side of his hips. He felt like his heart might burst out of his chest. Steve shot him a wild grin and it was like seeing the sun after a long winter. Bucky felt an answering grin come unbidden to his face.

They reached their floor and went forward at the same time. Bucky took a step back and gestured for Steve to go first. It wasn’t entirely a kindness, as it meant he got to watch Steve walk ahead of him down the hall to their room. He only wished they hadn’t already put their winter coats on, so he could admire the way Steve’s suit fit over his trim waist and slim hips.

Steve waited expectantly at the door, and Bucky fumbled with the key card, rushing so much he had to swipe three times before the got the timing right to unlock the door. They practically fell through the door, and then it was closed behind them and they were alone, truly alone.

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He busied himself hanging his winter coat and then his suit jacket carefully in the small closet. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long, he almost didn’t know what to do now. When he couldn’t delay any longer he turned to the room. Steve had stopped beside the bed and was uncoiling his long scarf. A chunk of his hair was standing on end, and Bucky thought, not for the first time, that it was the most endearing thing. He moved forward, pushed Steve’s thick coat off his shoulders to puddle on the floor, brushed the plush velvet of his blazer with his hands.

“You’re incredible,” he said, echoing his own words from earlier. “What you did—you shouldn’t have had to—thank you.” He shook his head, his thoughts all a jumble. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but if he didn’t say something now, he wasn’t sure he ever would.

Steve stopped him with a soft smile and a hand on his chest. “Buck. Of course I had to. When I saw what he was doing—How many times have you done the same for me when I got in over my head? It was time I returned the favour.”

Bucky huffed out a humourless laugh. “Yeah, but you’re a punk kid who doesn’t know what’s good for him. I, I don’t know. I hate him so much. I’d love to punch him in his smug face, but I just shut down. I can’t seem to help it.” He shook his head, trying to clear the memories.

“It’s ok, Buck.” Steve frowned, “Well, it’s not okay. Pierce should have his ass out on the street. I’m sure if you tell him”

Bucky shook his head again, “Pierce knows. He thinks it’s funny. I think he likes the control of knowing I have to either take it or break my contract.”

Steve’s face darkened, and he looked like he was about to begin one of his tirades, but Bucky stopped him with a hand clasped to the side of his neck, his thumb brushing softly against his cheek. “But I didn’t come here to talk about Pierce. Or Rumlow. And if that asshole ever comes near me again, all I have to do is threaten to tell my hundred-pound boyfriend on him.”

The warm surety of knowing Steve had his back, that he didn’t have to face this alone filled Bucky, enough that he didn’t notice his choice of words until he saw Steve’s eyes widen slightly.

“Is that what we are?” Steve asked, and Bucky was too flustered to tell if he seemed happy at the idea.

‘I guess, maybe? I mean, I’d like to,” Bucky stammered, kicking himself mentally. He was never this awkward with dates, and this was Steve, who already knew him inside and out. But then again, this was  _ Steve _ , who he’d been half in love with for as long as he could remember, and whom he’d long ago accepted would never return those feelings.

Steve smiled, and it was almost shy, “I think I’d like that too,” he said. “But why don’t we talk about that later? I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Bucky could only nod, and Steve went up on his tiptoes, winding his arms around Bucky’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. It started soft, like a promise, then as Bucky breathed a sigh of relief, for what he wasn’t sure, Steve took the opportunity to delve deeper, exploring Bucky’s mouth with his lips and tongue and claiming it for his own. Bucky gave him access eagerly, chasing him down for more when Steve pulled back to catch his breath.

He thought he could stand there forever, kissing Steve, but Steve had other ideas. He pushed Bucky back until his knees hit the bed and he had to either sit or fall on his ass, then stepped into the space between Bucky’s knees and kissed him again, now almost level. Bucky spread his knees and pulled him close, wrapping one hand around his hip and splaying the other across his back, under the blazer.

Bucky almost didn’t notice Steve’s nimble fingers working between them, undoing his buttons and loosening his tie until he had to pull back to slip the loop over his head. The considering look Steve gave the length of silk before tossing it to the side went straight to Bucky’s groin. Heat was already pooling there, shocks running through his body at every point of contact under Steve’s single-minded focus.

Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s chest and shoulders and down his arms, peeling him out of his shirt as he went. Pulling his arms free of his sleeves made Bucky realise he was falling behind, and he reached for Steve’s buttons. Steve shucked his own jacket and threw it aside, and Bucky was only able to get a few of the buttons at his throat undone before Steve was dropping, trailing sucking kissed and sharp bites down his neck and over his chest. He paused to place a softer kiss to a particularly knotted scar just at the edge of where Bucky’s flesh ended and the prosthetic began, then followed this gentleness by catching Bucky’s nipple between his teeth and tugging.

Bucky gasped at the sensation, arcing into the onslaught. Steve rolled his nipple between his teeth, then soothed the abused nub with his tongue before moving to apply the same treatment to the other one. Bucky tangled his hand in Steve’s hair, urging him on.

Steve dropped to his knees and looked up at Bucky from between his knees with the same wild grin he had had in the elevator. His lips were red, his eyes bright, and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat just looking at him.

“I can’t believe we haven’t done this before,” Steve said breathlessly as he reached for Bucky’s belt.

Thoughts of the million times he had fantasised about just this flooded Bucky’s mind, but now was not the time for confessions. Now he just leaned back to give Steve easier access, sighed as he pulled the buckle out of the way and popped his fly.

Steve looked down at the obvious bulge peeking out of the open zipper, then up at Bucky. He licked his lips. Bucky swallowed, afraid to anything to break the moment. Steve leaned in, inhaling deeply and mouthing his way over Bucky’s cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. Bucky closed his eyes and tilted his head back at the sensation. He could feel Steve’s hot breath, the press of his wet tongue, and the slight pull of suction as he traced the outline with his mouth.

It was everything, and it wasn’t enough. Bucky’s hips twitched helplessly and he spread his legs wider, wordlessly begging for more. Steve seemed to get the message, because he caught Bucky’s waistband in his teeth and pulled it down, freeing his cock to bob against his belly. He tucked the elastic under Bucky’s balls, then paused to consider how this pushed everything up and out before bending his head once again to suck first one ball and then the other into his hot mouth, working them over thoroughly and ignoring the one place Bucky really wanted him. Bucky groaned. He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, careful not to push on his head.

“Fuck Stevie,” he said, and that was the extend of his eloquence as Steve finally spread his lips over his cock and sucked lightly. He used his tongue to explore the head, teasing at the sensitive frenulum and running his teeth gently over the glans while he wrapped a hand firmly around the base and began to pull. He set up a rhythm, jerking with his hand and bobbing his head, using his tongue as he went. His eyes were closed in concentration, and Bucky watched him unashamedly, wanting to commit every moment of this to memory.  

He was beautiful. Everyone knew it except Steve himself. Like this, on his knees with his hot wet mouth working Bucky’s cock in exactly the right ways, he was something else entirely. Bucky fisted his hand in the comforter to keep from grabbing Steve’s head and fucking into his perfect mouth until he ended this all too soon. He made a small noise of frustration, and he could feel Steve smile around his cock.

Steve hollowed his cheeks, taking more of Bucky’s cock into his mouth until Bucky could feel himself nudging against the back of Steve’s throat. Bucky held his breath. Surely Steve wouldn’t, he’d have mentioned it if that was one of his skills. But Steve stopped there, and Bucky was saved from certain death by shock and sensory overload. Instead he continued smoothly gliding up and down Bucky’s cock, the hand around the base now still as his lips came to meet it each time.

White crackled at the edges of Bucky’s vision, and he felt his balls tighten. Suddenly he was looking into clear blue eyes and it was all too much.

“Steve, stop, he cried, pushing him away.

Steve pulled back immediately, nothing but concern in his face. His lips were spit shiny, and he was panting slightly. “What, did I do something wrong?” he asked, rubbing a hand in soothing circles on Bucky’s thigh.

Bucky shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “No, dummy. But the way you were going, this was going to be over a lot sooner than I’d like.”

Steve gave him a self-satisfied smirk and pulled himself up so he could sit on Bucky’s lap, straddling his thighs. “Oh, is that all? I thought there was some kind of problem.”

Bucky growled and tugged on Steve’s hips, grinding their erections together. “The only problem here is that you’re wearing way too many clothes,” he said, kneading his fingers into the meat of Steve’s ass. Steve gasped and rocked his hips forward, chasing the sensation. His pants were fine wool, but they felt rough to Bucky’s overheated flesh. He fucked up into it anyway. “And how are you going to fuck me,” he continued, throwing all caution to the wind as he pressed them yet closer together, “If you don’t even take your pants off?”

At his words, Steve’s pupils blew until only a sliver of blue remained, and his face grew sharp with need. ‘Yeah?” he asked breathily.

Bucky nodded, “yeah.”

Steve leaned in and kissed him, and if Bucky had thought he had been kissed thoroughly before, it was nothing compared to this. This was hot and needy and demanding, and Bucky gave everything Steve asked for and offered more. Their hips rocked together, the tip of Bucky’s cock dragging over the buttons of Steve’s vest in the most beautifully infuriating way.

When Steve finally pulled back, he was breathing as hard as Bucky, and Bucky could feel a wet spot spreading through the fabric of his pants where Steve’s erection was still trapped.

“Get up on the bed, on your belly, pants off,” Steve said, and the commanding tone of his voice was something Bucky had never heard before. A shiver ran down his spine and he hurried to do as he was asked. Done, he held himself up on his elbows and looked back over his shoulder.

Steve had loosened his belt and undone his pants, but left them on. He was standing at the edge of the bed, watching Bucky with his hand in his underwear, stroking himself. His eyes were dark, his lips parted. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

Bucky blushed and ducked his head without breaking eye contact. “Please,” he begged.

Steve put one knee on the bed, then paused. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked, this time it was his turn to look concerned. Steve gave him an apologetic look.

“I didn’t bring anything. Wasn’t exactly expecting this.”

Bucky groaned and dropped his head to the pillow, “Fuck, me either.” he said into the feathers, then lifted it hopefully. “Check the bathroom?”

Steve shook his head. “All that’ll be is cheap lotion and soap, and I’m not subjecting you to that, not to mention I’m probably allergic.” He tilted his head to the side, then moved onto the bed, positioning himself between Bucky’s legs. He put a hand on Bucky’s thigh. “I have an idea, but I need you to tell me if you don’t like something.”

Bucky nodded. “Anything. I trust you.”

Steve settled lower and placed a kiss to the base of Bucky’s spine, then gripped his ass in both hands, spreading it apart with his thumbs. Bucky hung his head between his shoulders. He had a good idea what was coming, but he still gasped as he felt the hot swipe of Steve’s tongue go from the back of his balls, over his hole all the way to his tailbone. Steve didn’t give him a chance to recover before he got to work, licking and sucking at the tender skin, making Bucky writhe beneath him before pointing his tongue and pressing in.

Bucky did his best to hold his hips still, but Steve still had to hold him pressed to the bed as he worked over his asshole with lips and tongue and teeth. Bucky felt hot and needy, his breath was coming in sharp gasps, and his blood was pounding in his ears. He started a chant of “Steve, oh fuck, Steve, please, fuck,” and when Steve pushed a pair of fingers in and began sucking and licking around them it was like getting punched in the stomach. All the air left his lungs for a moment as he forgot how to breathe, then came back in a rush with a ragged gasp and he began the invocation again.

The stretch burned a little, but Steve’s spit eased the way, and Bucky was so far gone with need, he’d have taken anything Steve had to give. Steve curled his fingers, brushing Bucky’s prostate, and he saw stars, the burn forgotten entirely. He fucked into the bed, but it wasn’t enough, and he whined. Steve held him firm, and continued fucking him on his fingers and tongue, now driving deep, hard and fast, now pulling back to suckle and tease the swollen tender flesh he had just been abusing.

Just when Bucky thought he couldn’t take anymore, Steve pulled out entirely, and Bucky whined with the loss. He felt Steve move away, then heard his clothes rustle. Steve tapped his legs and instructed him to move them together. When Bucky did so, he settled himself back on the bed, this time with his legs on either side of Bucky’s. Bucky heard him spit, then felt a hand sneak down to fit his cock between Bucky’s thighs, right at the crease of his ass.

Bucky sighed as Steve rocked forward slowly, getting a feel for the position before starting a steady rhythm that had the blunt head of his cock nudging against Bucky’s abused rim with every stroke. Bucky squeezed his thighs as tight as he could, and was rewarded by Steve stuttering in his rhythm, then starting up again, harder and more sure.

Steve’s cock was hot and hard between Bucky’s thighs, and even though there was no real penetration, Bucky felt like he was being hollowed out from the inside, his whole world narrowed to the sensation of being fucked into the bed by his best friend. He clawed at the mattress, needing more. Steve’s hands roamed over his back, and then Steve was sinking his teeth into the back of his shoulder and Bucky cried out.

‘Steve, FUCK, I need,” he ground out between gasps. Steve soothed the bite with his tongue, then sank his teeth in again in nearly the same place before worming his hand under Bucky to take his cock in a firm grip. Bucky fucked into his fist as Steve bit down harder, once, twice and then he was coming hot and sticky in Steve’s hand.

Steve held him tight, thrusting only gently into him through the last shudders of his orgasm. Then he pulled out, just for a moment, and when he pushed back in it was slicker, and if Bucky’d had more functional brain cells at that moment, that might’ve been the hottest thing he’d ever encountered.

Steve’s thrusts sped up, fucking Bucky’s thighs hard and fast, nearly breaching his entrance each time. He gripped Bucky’s hips so hard Bucky thought he might bruise, and then he slammed in one final time and came with a ragged shout before collapsing on top of Bucky.

They lay there, trying to catch their respective breaths. Bucky half thought that he’d be okay if he died now, nothing could be better than this, and then followed that up by thinking that if unplanned, unprepared sex was this good, it very much could be better, and he was going to need to live a long time to find out just how much so.

Steve shifted, and the squelchy wet feeling between his legs brought Bucky out of his musings with a grimace. He rolled to his side to look at Steve. He was standing beside the bed, looking at himself with a frown. He hadn’t done much more than shove his pants down, and now the hails of his shirt, the top of his pants, and even the tips of his vest were streaked with whitish stains.

“I was just starting to like this suit,” he grumbled, peeling himself out of it.

Bucky laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m sure Nat knows some magic laundry person who can make it good as new. She has a guy for everything.”

“Maybe,” Steve said, hopping on one foot to get his last sock off. “I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I need a shower first. Come with me to make sure I don’t drown?”

Bucky sat up and ran a hand through the mess on his stomach. “As long as you do the same for me.”

Steve smiled at him, and the love in his eyes filled Bucky with a warmth that transcended even the afterglow of possibly the best sex he’d ever had. “Of course, Buck. I’m with you.”

 

* * *

 

Later, after they had showered and stripped the stained comforter from the bed, they lay close, Bucky on his back with one arm out, Steve curled into him with his head on his shoulder. Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head and looked up to thank the powers that be for this unimaginable gift. Who would have thought it would take a crazy plan, and then Rumlow and his holly to get them here. He was almost grateful to the man. His eyes caught a splash of green and white, and he huffed a soft laugh. There, at the top of the bed frame above their heads, was a sprig of mistletoe, tied with a ribbon.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love, and concrit is welcome, either here or you can reach me privately on my tumblr.


End file.
